was walking in my front door...minding my own business...when my eyes were drawn upward by my super sensitive central nervous system to the eave above the front door. Where they spotted a big ball of grey papery stuff that my brain instantly converted to Spiders! Spiders live and are multiplying and being born in there! Making me throw the front door open and almost bowl over the dog who was initially trying to run outside until he saw the panicked look on my face and turned and high-tailed it back inside looking over his shoulder for the rabid wolf or pistol-packin alien that must be on my tail to cause such an entrance. So after I slam and lock the front door (because you never know just how clever these creepy haunted looking freaks can be) it dawns on me. I have a job. A job that I love. And a long list of rinks. That I love. That I can never go to again because it would mean walking in the vicinity of The Municipality of Mutants to get to the van in the carport. So I gotta do something. Telling the boys or Hubby would do no good. Id be certain to waking up to that thing on my pillow as their cell phone video camera was poised to make me a Youtube Sensation by morning. So Im on my own. So I go out the back patio door. And grab a big rock. And run as fast as my hobbled feet will take me up the stairs through the carport and turn and jump sideways in mid-air and whip the rock at the eave in a way that makes me look like a seriously cool villain in The Matrix. But I miss. Dammit. So I keep trotting. Past the dining room window where Hubby is standing there with a mug of tea looking at me all perplexed and wondering what the hell Im doing. But Ive no time to explain this madness...nor do I have any desire for him to let it slip to the boys that the secret to launching a thousand gallons of nightmare fuel on me is at their fingertips. So I keep going all the way around the house. And get a bigger rock. And try my Matrix-like triple-axel loop-and-hurl one more time. And hit it dead on. Causing three things to happen...1) My central nervous system calms down and informs me that spider nests dont look all papery. But hornets nests do. 2). Hubby abandons his tea and does a duck-and-run with the dog towards the back of the house. 3). That papery thingie was connected to breakable building material that used to make my front doorway look all inviting and welcoming. But now looks like a jack-o-lantern with cavities. So now I just unleashed a bigger rock at what is probably a hornets nest filled with angry little swarms of vermin who will now be intent on stabbing me repeatedly with their tiny little needle-like butts to show me whos boss. And my hobbled trot turns into a limping sprint...all the way around the house where Hubby can now see me from another window. But this time moving so fast my face looks like Im standing in front of a leaf blower and screeching for God to save me. So I whip around the back of the house at about a hundred miles an hour and fling the patio door open and gallop inside and nearly bowl over the poor dog who thought he was safe in hiding out in the living room but is now doing his best to turn in mid-sprint but having a hard time getting a grip on the wood floor. And so I run flailing and beating myself in random places just in case they caught up to me into the dining room. And see Hubby pressed up against the wall looking at me like maybe he needs to call someone. But now I went and did it. And I cant leave a swarm of angry hornets flitting around the house waiting for some hapless victim to go outside and get stung. So I grab a can of Raid (of which I keep a steady supply) and a broom and get prepared to take my lickins for acting like a baby and throwing those rocks. And I fling the door open and hurl myself outside and slam it shut to stop any of the swarm from getting inside and uncork The Worlds Most Pathetic War Cry because I have the whole bottom half of my face jammed into my sweater. And lo and behold...its empty. No hornets. No creepy looking haunted freaks. Just grey papery stuff. Guess those Wanna-Bees couldnt handle life in Hawleywood. Few can, mighty swarm. Dont feel bad. Few can....
Posted on: Thu, 25 Sep 2014 00:12:26 +0000
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